


Atlas

by nanasekei



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: (...happy-ish), (but not anti Tony Stark), Angst, Angst and Romance, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anti Accords, Canon Compliant, First Kiss, M/M, Mutual Pining, No character bashing, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Tony Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-24
Updated: 2018-03-24
Packaged: 2019-04-07 04:56:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14073351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nanasekei/pseuds/nanasekei
Summary: They don't hear each other.





	Atlas

**Author's Note:**

> A few things to consider:
> 
> -This fic takes place in between the end of Civil War and my own version of Infinity War. It's canon compliant to pretty much all the recent Marvel movies, including Homecoming, Ragnarok and Black Panther. it also follows what the IW prelude comic says about team cap - namely, that Clint and Scott are back with their families, Wanda is traveling Europe with Vision, and Nat, Sam and Steve are working as rogue avengers together.
> 
> -Both Steve and Tony are carrying massive guilt and trauma over the CW events here. Their povs are often harsh on themselves and are not representative of the writer's opinions.
> 
> -This fic is very blatantly anti-accords, and it assumes Tony has not been obeying them blindly after CW. It is NOT, however, anti-Tony Stark or anti-any Iron Man Team member. It recognizes the reasoning behind their decisions, it just uses the perspective that they were played by Thaddeus Ross to sign something that was not formulated in good faith or with good intentions. That being said, it's not a significant point of the story. 
> 
> -The fic and all of the mini-chapters' titles come from here: [x](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8q9mAcdAIoE)

**I. I thought you were a constellation**

Steve Rogers is a frozen man.

He still is, after all this time. Everything around him moves and passes too fast, and he can’t help but watch it. Nobody else notices, of course, because his body’s speed is something else, but the fact remains that he can still feel the cold if he focuses, and everywhere he looks there’s that hard layer of ice in front of it. It’s a layer of strength and power and of being stuck, in the same spot, until the day he dies.

* * *

 

Tony Stark moves.

Not just in the way everybody else does. To Steve, at least, it feels like he’s constantly moving – gesticulating, pacing, talking, yeah, but also just constantly shifting, changing before his eyes. Tony is the most self-centered person Steve has ever known. Tony would sacrifice his life for a group of people he just met. Tony is an arrogant jerk. Tony hates himself. Tony is intelligent, a scientific genius, and he’s incapable of figuring out when he probably should have a full night of sleep before making a decision. This is all true, all at the same time. For Steve, it’s impressive to watch how someone can be so many things at once, multiple wheels spinning in different directions to create the man who stands in battle beside him, laughs next to him during a movie, rolls his eyes at his speeches and mocks him through the coms.

It makes Steve’s head spin. He watches and feels like he can’t stop looking, like his head is way too wrapped around the way Tony’s fingers move in the air - beautiful, elegant hands that he waves around as if words weren’t enough to transmit everything he could possibly think of saying. Steve watches and his head spins, his heart races and he feels like he can’t stop looking, but he _has_ to stop looking because his chest feels heavy and tight and he feels like if he stared any longer, he’d stop moving altogether.

* * *

(“You know, you could probably use some sleep.”

“You know, I didn’t invite you here.”  
  
“I do know that.”)

* * *

 

**II. god knows, I am dissonance**

Tony Stark is a man of the future.

He has always been, through his whole life. He thinks miles ahead, further than anybody else can follow. He builds, thinks, drinks, and, for most of his life, it’s enough. It’s enough until he’s at the bottom of a cave and a man with kind eyes and a tough voice asks him to be more. But how do you go further than the future? And the answer is right there, between a bunch of junk and scattered metal and his heart hooked up to a car battery – you bring the future right to you.

* * *

 

Steve Rogers is a man of the present.

Sure, technically, not really – he comes from a time way past, a legend discussed in museum rooms and known to the public mostly through black-and-white photos and videos. But to Tony, he’s a part of the present, has always been. Captain America was dead to the world, but never to Howard Stark, and therefore never to Tony Stark’s ridiculous, childlike eyes. Those eyes turned bitter through the years, injected with red of the constant parties and alcohol and the memory of Obie’s face standing before him and leaving him out to die on the floor. Captain America came close to fading then, his image a distant trace of a time where Tony Stark wasn’t ashamed of having hope.

That was, of course, before he woke up in the ice and walked into a SHIELD ship to stare at Tony’s eyes and make him feel like the world was shifting beneath his feet.

Tony doesn’t get what Steve is, not anymore. He knows he’s a man of the present because he’s right there, now, and it increasingly feels like he’s _everywhere_ – clinging to his suit to fly above a battle; sitting next to him during a debriefing; drawing across the room while he and Bruce work; knocking on his lab door way too many times a week to check if Tony is still alive, as if that was _any_ of his business. His presence is overwhelming, crushing, and it makes Tony’s mouth dry and his face flush and his heart feels like it needs an arc reactor again. Tony Stark is a man of the future, but he stares at Steve Rogers and the present feels so big, so important, so beautiful. He needs to turn his look away and ignore, force his eyes back on the horizon line, before he starts wishing time would stop around them for a moment.

* * *

 

(“…That, as a rule, means you shouldn’t barge inside of private places like people’s rooms, Cap.”

“This is a lab.”

“Even more private, then. Did you know some countries would start wars for the chance to walk in here like you just did? Did you know the life and death of our various comrades depend on the secrecy of the magic I can do inside this environment? Do you have any idea-“

“You’re fixing a toaster, Tony.”)

* * *

 

 

**III. infinity times infinity**

Steve Rogers falls in love.

It’s not a hard thing, for him – it’s a slow process that he’s mostly unaware of, until one day it hits him in the face and he doesn’t know what to do.

Steve falls in love with Iron Man: the one he meets for the first time in a  SHIELD ship and then for real immediately afterwards, when said ship is about to fall apart. He falls in love with his witty banter through the coms, with his clever mind and strategic thinking in battle, with how he keeps his cool demeanor no matter what, as if they’re invincible. Steve falls in love with the way Iron Man is built to save and protect as much as a machine could ever be – with the way he rushes forward to fly anyone out of danger, the way he doesn’t back down from anyone, the way he evolves and changes to make everything seem possible.

Steve falls in love with Tony Stark: the one who annoyed him at first sight, impressed him at second, and fascinated him more and more each and every sight afterwards. He falls in love with the elegant and quick way he moves, as if on a dance Steve could never hope to learn; with his ridiculous generosity, offering everything to everyone all the time, as if it’s the most natural thing in world; with the way his brown eyes brighten while he’s talking and Steve forgets what he was saying in the first place. Steve falls in love with the way Tony is capable of taking simple things and turning them into magic – with the way he explains anything Steve asks about the 21st century with way more detail than it requires; with the way his eyes glance into the future and seem to say “hey, fancy meeting you here”; with how his brown orbs look at Steve and make him feel that future burning through the ice around him, warming up his skin, making him feel alive.

Both of them move past him, in the end.

* * *

 

Tony Stark falls in love.

It’s not an easy thing, for him – it’s a painful process, that he tries his best not to be aware of until it’s just too obvious for a genius mind to ignore.

Tony falls in love with Captain America: the one he idolized as a kid, hated as a teenager, and got to fight along as a grown man. He falls in love with the way he holds his head up in battle, the way his voice is strong and confident ordering them around through the coms, the way he rushes forward and holds up the shield against anything and anyone that could hurt an innocent person. Tony falls in love with the way Captain America is as much as a legend as a real human being could ever be - with the way his hope never fades, with the attention he pays to everyone else in combat, with the way his blue eyes can glance at you and make you feel like you’re worth fighting for.

Tony falls in love with Steve Rogers: the one he knows from the files, snapped at the first time they talked, and grew to consider as a friend. He falls in love with his perpetually sad and shy grin; with his occasional surprisingly snarky comebacks; with the way he shuffles in the same place awkwardly sometimes, as if he’s still not sure how much he belongs where he stands. Tony falls in love with the way Steve wants everyone else to belong - with his silly insistence on team-bonding sessions, with his kind voice at Bruce and affectionate jokes at Natasha, with his unbearable habit of looking straight into Tony’s eyes and smiling like he sees something good enough staring back.

Both of them break his heart, in the end.

* * *

 

(“So? A healthy breakfast is the first step for a good day of saving Earth and kicking ass, Captain.”

“In the two years I’ve known you, I haven’t seen you eat breakfast once.”

“I’m a genius. I function with a different metabolism than most people, which means I don’t need superficial things like Clint’s terrible pancakes to function.”

“You ate five of them last night.”

“…Look, it’s part of the genius metabolism, ok? I can just, you know, filter out the bad taste from my system, and from time to time make the sacrifice of- Stop laughing, Steve.”)

* * *

  
**IV. we laid our names to rest along the dotted line**

Tony lies.

He puts the pens in front of Steve and tries his best to seem reasonable. He brings up Ultron, mentions Pepper, reminisces about fucking World War Two. Throws every trick he can think off, every movement his brain can come up to just get Steve to sign the goddamn papers. Because he has to, Tony tells himself, his eyes watching as Steve touches the pen and seems to think. Because it’s the only way, because they need to make it right - because Tony can’t close his eyes without thinking about Sokovia, hearing the screams of the people underneath, seeing the eyes of that woman looking at Tony like he had probably looked at Loki in New York.

So he lies. He tells Steve they will amend the documents later, as if that’s a guarantee and not something he’s just crossing his fingers he can convince Ross to let him do. Steve looks at him and Tony knows, he _knows_ Steve sees right through him, so he just lays a bunch of other truths on the table, as if to balance everything out:  _I hated you. Sometimes I wanna punch you in your perfect teeth. I don’t want to see you gone. We need you, Cap –_ and the _I need you_ almost comes out right after, making way across his throat like a bullet, going all the way to the tip of his tongue in the hopes of reaching Steve’s ears, his eyes, his heart - only to be swallowed back, because what the hell is he even thinking, like they need something like _that_ thrown into that mess as well.

Steve doesn’t sign.

Tony sighs, puts his hands in his pockets and, for a second, allows his childish mind to wonder if it would have made a difference. But he knows the answer.

* * *

 

Steve runs.

He runs because he has to, they’re running out of time, they’ve done too much and come too far to stop know. He rushes inside the building with Bucky, thinks about everyone in the airport and forces himself not to think of what they left behind. They take the elevator and Steve stares into his eyes and Bucky nods, and Steve nods back because they need to make it right, it’s the only way, and Steve can’t close his eyes without thinking about Bucky falling in the snow behind him, hearing the sinister voice of Zola’s computer, the words _Hydra’s new order will rise_ and _we won, Cap_ echoing on his mind like a damn curse – and the ice, the ice, the ice seeming thicker and stronger than ever, threatening to hold him down for good.

So he runs. He and Bucky walk into the hallway with the rifle and the shield both up, and when the door opens to reveal Iron Man Steve’s heart tightens. When the faceplate goes up to reveal Tony Stark, there’s a knot on his throat, an almost faint glimmer of hope as Tony says _Maybe your story is not so_ crazy, which Steve knows is Tony saying he believes him. That’s already a different Tony from the one he met at the airport – he’s shifting again, adapting, moving right before Steve’s eyes, magic at work, Iron Man and Tony Stark ready to change everything to save the world once more. He rests his armor on the wall and jokes about having to arrest himself if Ross knows he’s there. Steve doesn’t move, just stares at Tony’s brown orbs and states bluntly that _that sounds like a lot of paperwork_ , and Tony gives him a half-smile that almost makes him think not everything is lost.

Steve lowers the shield. He still doesn’t move, both holding his own and worried that if he does he might break the spell, ruin the miracle that seems to be happening before his eyes. He says _It’s good to see you, Tony_ because he feels like he has to say something, and through the ice the words feel muffled and messy and Steve doesn’t know how to work with them, how to turn them into coherent sounds to express the burst of hope and relief on his chest right now.

 _Same here, Cap_ , Tony answers, and Steve is happy that, even though he can’t seem to make words come out of the ice, Tony’s voice is warm enough to push them through it.

* * *

 

(The moment plays in Steve’s head like a movie, every time he closes his eyes. Tony’s eyes widened, shining with tears he wasn’t so much holding back as he probably couldn’t bring himself to let go. Part of Steve wanted to grab him and push him away, not let him see it, but there he was instead – watching in silent as Tony Stark’s soul broke in front of his eyes. It was like watching a surgery, seeing his raw pain on his face like that, in a way that felt obscene and wrong. Steve watched and wanted to grab him, wanted to push him away, wanted to say something, anything, but he just stood there motionless, the frozen man he still was.

Then Tony turned to him - _moving_ , Tony’s always moving, Steve can’t keep up no matter how much he tries - and, just like that, it was over.)

* * *

 

It’s a loud noise, the back of the suit knocking on the ground. He can feel the weight of both Steve Rogers and Captain America over him, holding him down, and as he tries to fight back, he can see the shield being lifted above their heads - almost slowly, almost taking it’s time for what it’s about to do – and Tony’s body flinches and prepares itself for the final blow about to come.

Tony thinks: Yeah, this is it. This is the moment where his fantasies fall apart - the moment he’s been waiting for since the first glance, the first smile, the first pat on the back after a good battle. This is that heart-wrenching thread breaking apart, the sound of a door slamming closed, a warm hand letting him go as he falls into the abyss. Tony thinks: _This is the moment that counts._

(Tony thinks: _Kill me_.)

* * *

 

It’s a loud noise, the back of the suit knocking on the ground. He can feel the strength of both Iron Man and Tony Stark struggling under him, fighting to break free, and as he tries to keep him down, he can see Tony’s eyes widening at the shield being lifted above their heads – way too slowly, almost as if it’s heavier now than it ever was – and Steve’s body shakes and prepares itself for the final blow about to come.

Steve thinks: Yeah, this is it. This is the moment where his hopes falter, the moment he knew would come since he first heard of the accords and saw the guilty look in Tony’s face, since he heard the anger on his voice about Lagos, since his eyes glanced over the names of Howard and Maria Stark in Zola’s computer. This is where Tony stops moving in front of him, where the brown eyes don’t shine at him anymore, where the lab door closes and no super soldier strength can force it open. Steve thinks: _This is the moment that changes._

(Steve thinks: _I can’t_.)

* * *

 

They don’t hear each other.

* * *

 

 

**V. we cried ourselves a hurricane**

Tony dreams.

He dreams of many things that make no sense. He dreams of watching Barnes walking towards a car, then he’s inside the car, and then Barnes morphs into Steve, and Steve morphs into Howard, and suddenly the car is floating and his father’s eyes turn into Ultron’s, and there’s nothing but space around him, and he hears the sound of the arc reactor failing and he thinks he doesn’t have it anymore, and he looks down and there is just an empty hole in his chest and-

He dreams, but he doesn’t sleep a lot. He focuses on work above everything. He can’t sleep, can’t call Pepper, can’t bear to look at Rhodey’s face – so, yeah, work it is. The Accords are a pain on his ass and it takes one look at Ross’s face when he mentions making changes to the documents to confirm his confidence was naïve. Still, Tony can bring himself to ignore it.

Life goes on. Tony goes on some missions the U.N. sends him. Others, he finds himself. He goes out of his way to track Parker’s actions, to keep him out of Ross’s radar. He builds Rhodey the best walking device humanity has ever seen. He calls Pepper eventually and is so shocked she actually gives him another chance, he doesn’t refuse. He works and works and works and does his best to forget about the flip phone locked away on his desk, untouched and unharmed, for months.

* * *

 

(Tony doesn’t dream of azure eyes. He doesn’t dream of a strong voice and a sad smile. He thinks about it, every night before going to bed and dreaming of scarred shields and old pens and flip phones. His chest tightens and hurts and he reminds himself there isn’t a hole there, there _isn’t_ , even if it sometimes it might feel like it.)

* * *

 

“You should call him.”, Vision says, once, when they’re back from a mission, careful and blunt in a way only he could ever be. Tony’s stomach twists, his lips pressed against each other on a thin line, and he reminds himself he didn’t give Vision mind-reading abilities when he created him. Vision is a clever creature, but he has no way of knowing about dreams and fantasies and a bunch of hopes that died when a shield got hammered into his chest, threatening to come back because of a fucking _flip phone_.

So Tony gives him an angry look, praying for him to just stop talking. And Vision isn’t a mind reader, just a kind person, so he lowers his head.

“I apologize. It just seems it would… Lift your spirits.” He says, floating back to his room. Tony tells himself he’s wrong.

* * *

 

Steve dreams.

He doesn’t remember what, most of the time. He keeps waking up in the middle of the night, though, and in his mind there’s always a mix of feelings, a constant echo of _we won, Cap_ and _gone in her sleep_ and _who’s Bucky_ and _don’t bullshit me, Rogers._ Steve’s mind keeps spinning and there’s a heavy pain in his chest as he thinks of brown teary eyes staring right through him. He wants to go back to sleep, but there’s that pain and the overwhelming feeling of the ice thickening around him, and Steve knows it’s not rational but a part of him feels that if he goes back to sleep now he might only wake up decades later, to a new world and all of his dead friends.

So he doesn’t. He wakes up, works on some mission data, and waits for everyone else to wake up too.

They move a lot, especially in the beginning. They leave Bucky in Wakanda, because it’s the only safe place they have left. After that, the priority is to help Clint and Scott, find a way to keep their families safe, form a channel they can use to keep contact. Steve makes plans and works with Natasha to find new identities. He follows her advice and lets his beard grow– Sam mocks him for it, and they share a weak smile.

Steve works for months so Clint and Scott can leave, and when they’re gone he tries to do the same for Sam and Natasha, but they refuse. Steve knows better than to try to convince them otherwise at this point, so he doesn’t. They keep moving around, finding new missions, never staying too long in the same place. Steve is fine with that, honestly. He doesn’t have a lot of baggage – just a couple of clothes, the coms device they all share, and a flip phone he takes on the bottom of his backpack, even though he never uses it.

* * *

 

(Steve doesn’t dream of Bucky’s hands around Howard’s throat. He didn’t do more than glance at the video once, before his eyes found Tony’s face and froze there for what seemed like an eternity.)

* * *

 

“You should call him”, Natasha says, right after they get word the package has reached its destination. Steve doesn’t even glance at her direction – he knows she doesn’t expect an answer. He lowers his head and crosses his arms, and Natasha’s shoulder brushes against his, a comforting gesture he’d take as accidental coming from anyone else.

* * *

 

Tony proposes the same way he does everything else – quick, on a whim, and with way less preparation and care than Pepper deserves. She says yes, and for a moment it’s perfect, it’s everything he needs. He kisses her and the reporters go crazy, there’s a wave of applause across the room, he can hear Happy squealing with glee. It’s a good decision.

Then, at night, when Pepper follows him to bed, he pretends not to see how her eyes glance towards the workshop door, how the glimpse of worry and fear he sees there is bound to be the end for them again.

Tony moves. Way too fast.

* * *

 

Steve reads about the proposal on a paper left on the table. Sam left it with the front page turned down, because of course he would, and that’s what makes Steve know he probably shouldn’t look at it. He does anyway.

Steve feels happy for them. He doesn’t know Pepper well, but he knows she’s intelligent and caring and that Tony loves her a lot. He does know Tony well, so he knows he deserves that happiness. And he lowers the paper on the table and lets a bunch of images flash through his mind for a singular moment – low laughter across the coms; warm skin brushing his quickly by accident, on a meeting, as Tony talked through his mouth and hands; wide brown eyes staring at him right after the world almost ended, bright and strong and _alive_ like nothing Steve had ever seen.  He lets them flash by. They pass by him as fast as Tony’s voice would, quick reflexes of light hitting the ice for a moment before fleeing, never melting it.

Steve wants to get up, but for a moment, he can’t move.

* * *

 

(That night, Steve dreams of things that never happened, touches never given and words never said. He dreams of the feel of Tony’s stubble against his skin, of Tony’s mouth smiling against his, of Tony’s hands laying quiet for a moment and intertwining his fingers against his own. He dreams of a future he never saw, of unbroken hearts and untold lies. He dreams of _We need you_ turning into _I need you_ and _I will miss you, Tony_ turning into _I want to stay_ and _together_ turning into-

_Did you know?_

Steve wakes up, breathing heavily, his heart aching on his chest as if it’s going to explode, and, for once, he’s glad he can’t go back to sleep.)

* * *

 

“You should call him”, Happy says, hesitant but cheerful, when they’re laying out the first wedding plans. Happy is clearly excited about this, so Tony knows he probably shouldn’t give the man a deadly glare over a simple suggestion, but he does anyway. Happy stutters. “I mean, just, to share the good news. Obviously, he wouldn’t be able to come-” A muscle on Tony’s jaw twitches involuntarily. “I mean, no, he shouldn’t be _invited_ , I’m not saying that, but, you know… It’s a wedding! It’s, it’s huge news.” He babbles, and Tony feels his expression soften, because he knows Happy just wants to help. He proceeds: “S-sorry. I just thought… It’s nice to share good news with friends.”

Tony flinches.

 _He’s my friend_ echoes through his head, along with the sound of a metal arm disintegrating. He feels dizzy, puts a hand on the table to keep himself up. Happy rushes to help him, and, thankfully, he doesn’t bring it up again.

* * *

 

Steve fights.

It’s a bit strange, at first, without the shield. Not terrible, just… Different. The lack of the shield on his back makes his body balance different, and more than once he catches himself reaching for something that’s not there anymore.

Still, he gets used to it. He picks up a lot of Natasha’s techniques, because the less noise and attention they bring to themselves, the better, and nobody knows how to be silent and deadly like her. Steve enjoys the training – it blows off steam and keeps them busy between a mission and the other. Sometimes, it almost feels as if they’re back in the tower gym, years ago. As if they could just walk out into the living room, sit on the couch and listen to a fast-talking voice complaining in an exaggeratedly outraged tone, _do you even know how much this couch you’re soaking with sweat cost? No, of course, and I don’t even want to tell you - if I write it down, the number of zeros alone will keep me here the entire night, didn’t they taught you manners at one of those 21st century information debriefings, Rogers?_

Wanda doesn’t train with them. Steve isn’t happy about it, doesn’t like how much time she spends alone, but Natasha tells him to back off and give her time. He does, reluctantly. Wanda avoids coming to the missions at first, until one day Steve insists she goes - her eyes stare deeply into his daring him to give up, but he doesn’t, so she tags along, and it works out very well. Steve catches her grinning, breathlessly, once they escape the hideout of the HYDRA base. He finds himself smiling, too.

Life goes on. Wanda shares that she’s been in contact with Vision, asks if he can meet them somewhere. Natasha assures her she will figure out a way. Wanda smiles, and Steve does his best to ignore that bubbling feeling in his stomach, that itching will to open his mouth and _ask,_ because Vision is still at the tower, right? Vision still trains at the gym, still sits on the living room couch, still can go to the lab and see if by any chance the door is open…

Steve shakes his head.

Natasha eventually arranges a way for them to meet – just for one hour, and it’s only once a month, but Wanda doesn’t seem to care. She beams like Steve hasn’t ever seen her do before. He feels happy for her. He’s not at all thinking about secret meetings, how they’re apparently a possibility, how Vision would be able to deliver a message if he asked, and how maybe what you write in a letter can be more convincing if said in person.

Steve fights. He trains every day, wakes up as early as he can. He learns to fight without the shield as well as he did with it. He leads every single mission, charging into battle with such easiness that it starts to feel almost comforting. They travel constantly, go through many countries where he’s a wanted man and some where he isn’t. He doesn’t care that much.

One day, Natasha brings him a sketchbook, and practically orders him to occupy his time with something other than work. Steve doesn’t want to draw, doesn’t have any ideas to sketch out, but he doesn’t want to ignore her gift, so he scribbles some doodles instead. Eventually, they start to take some shape, turn into Sam’s wings, Natasha’s piercing eyes, a bunch of spirals floating above Wanda’s head.

(Sometimes, they take the shape of a witty smile, a tough armor, an elegant hand wearing a beautiful wedding ring. Steve rips those pages off.)

Life goes on. Steve gets used to his new routine – working, fighting, and sometimes sketching, never in a very organized order. He spars with Natasha and Sam, helps Wanda with her training, uses their com device to check on Clint and Scott from time to time. Steve tries to protect them all, comes up every day with new plans and strategies. Steve forgets about being Captain America and gets used to the idea of being a war criminal.

At night, he closes his eyes and pretends he hears the flip phone ring.

* * *

 

“You should call him”, Sam says, days later, when they’re eating a poor excuse for a dinner in a dirty hideout. Steve looks at him to try to catch any sarcasm in his expression, but Sam just stares right back with honest, serious dark eyes that speak volumes. It’s an understanding look, and Steve feels a knot on his throat. If he was a different person, he’d start crying right there, and Sam would pat his back.

He isn’t a different person, so he says nothing. Sam pats his back anyway.

* * *

 

When Wakanda opens its borders, Tony’s phone is flooded with messages from Ross. He avoids him as much as he can, but eventually has to answer. He tells him the truth, mostly – no, he doesn’t know the tech; no, Howard never mentioned anything; no, he doesn’t think Howard knew, really. Then Ross asks him about the new king of the country wearing an enhanced catsuit to fight the nation’s enemies, and Tony laughs loudly on the phone until Ross feels embarrassed enough to tell him to forget it, hanging up immediately.

So, _technically,_ Tony guesses, he didn’t lie.

Still, he researches Wakandan tech, because it’s the most incredible thing the world has ever seen, and even the little they’re showing at their international center is enough to keep Tony locked up on his lab for weeks. He finds out, through a careful curation of true information and insane internet rumors, that they have a very advanced research on psychology as well, with tons of advanced trauma treatments.

Tony takes a deep breath as he remembers Wakanda withdrawing from the Accords. He has a hunch, a very strong one, but no way of proving it.

Instead, he looks into their psychology research, which leads him to look into trauma treatments in general, which leads him to different effects of trauma and brainwashing.

He ends up in the SHIELD files. He knows it’s probably not a good idea. He’s never read the entire thing, only bits and parts, and never the Winter Soldier file. Friday seems worried when he asks her to search it, but Tony opens it anyway, because he was never one for self-preservation in the first place.

Most of it isn’t new information – there isn’t anything on his missions, of course, just a lot of neurological exams and a fuck ton of lab reports. Tony reads it, and it’s all very mechanical stuff, but there’s just enough mentions of electroshock treatment and the variation of bodily functions in a Cryostasis Chamber to make him feel slightly ill. He reads on the implantation of a mechanical arm and he can hear the sound of it blowing up on his head, Barnes panting, Steve staring at him with a mix of fear and hate on his blue eyes.

Tony lays his face on his hands. In his head, he sees Barnes walking towards Howard’s car, feels Steve’s shield smashing the reactor on his chest, and, for the first time, hears Colonel Helmut Zemo’s laughter.

* * *

 

Tony knows he shouldn’t keep looking, should just close the file and never think about Barnes again, but he can’t. Pepper tells him to stop, but he keeps going. He searches for James Buchanan Barnes, watches every video on the Howling Commandos, focuses on the young determined face he sees and tries to associate it with the murderer who haunts his dreams. On most of the pictures, Barnes is with Steve, who looks exactly like the man Tony yelled at for the first time on a SHIELD ship, but also somehow much younger. Tony imagines their friendship before the war, two boys relying on each other when they had nothing else. He imagines Steve losing his parents and visiting their graves with Barnes, and then has a flash of a memory of Rhodey’s hand on his shoulder in front of a tomb that read _Maria Stark._

He throws up. But the image doesn’t go away.

* * *

 

They escape getting caught by a patrol on a frontier once, and it’s a very narrow escape, and a few days later Natasha shows up with blonde hair and tells him they need to be more careful. Wanda gets a thoughtful look on her face, and Steve knows what she’s thinking, but he doesn’t say anything. He just nods and starts formulating a new plan for their next hideout.

He watches T’challa’s announcement on TV. Natasha raises her eyebrows, and Steve knows she’s worried about Bucky, but he trusts T’challa’s word. He wonders what Tony thinks of all that new tech. He imagines him in his lab, studying some Wakandan blueprint, brown eyes glowing maniacally, hands waving all over the place. This time, not even the detail of the wedding ring is enough to kill the image, and Steve closes his eyes a little, pretends he’s there, pretends Tony turns around and smiles at him and makes some silly joke about how _this shield is about to get as ancient as you, Cap_. And Steve imagines touching his waist, pulling him closer, laughing on Tony’s shoulder, watching the way the corner of his eyes wrinkle with his smile, his fingers touching the blueprint carefully, reaching forward to a new future.

He imagines calling the phone. He wonders if Tony kept it.

* * *

 

“You should call him”, Wanda mutters, not even turning her head, almost two months later, when they’re waiting for Vision to meet them at the combined spot. The words come out tentative but tinged with an unmistakable gentleness, and Steve’s eyes widen. Wanda wouldn’t pry into his mind without his permission and he knows it. Still, without looking at him, her hand reaches to hold his, very carefully, saying goodbye and saying a ton of other things as well, things Steve can’t really bear to hear at the moment, but he knows are probably right. Wanda swallows and Steve can tell she wants to say more but doesn’t know how – it happens often with her, though not as often as it used to. So he just uses his free arm to pull her into a hug, and, even though he doesn’t whisper the _I know_ he’s thinking right now, he’s pretty sure she can hear it.

* * *

 

Tony’s brain wrecks itself thinking about it. He creates a file on James Barnes on his computer, saves everything he searched, trains himself to think of him and the Soldier as different people. He imagines Steve meeting this guy, trusting him, saving his life. In some highly delirious sleep-deprived moments, Tony almost wishes he could have met him too. He imagines young, tiny Steve making dumb pranks and joking around with his best pal. And, because his brain is on a masochist roll, he keeps imagining Steve in every way he has been trying to avoid for almost two years. He imagines Steve Rogers, skinny asthmatic; Steve Rogers, leader of a combat unit; Steve Rogers, criminal on the run. The one he never knew, the one he knew too well and the one he doesn’t know anymore. He imagines Steve lowering his head to walk on the street, spending every night in uncomfortable hideouts where he probably felt more at home than at his soft bed in the Avengers tower. He searches the internet for any news of human traffic rings or neo-Nazi groups vanishing suddenly, saves them all in a single file. He imagines Steve in Wakanda, Norway, Afghanistan, Brazil. He wonders if Barnes is still with him, if anyone is still with him, but he guesses Sam and Natasha didn’t have anywhere else to go, either. He imagines a Captain America without his shield, a soldier without a country, a Steve Rogers without that beautiful glimmering hope in his eyes. His hands itch.

He glances at the phone on his desk, looks at it for a small second, and makes up some reason to go work in Friday’s code.

* * *

 

“You should call him” says Rhodey, casually, sipping on a whiskey glass. Tony looks at him like he’s insane - which is somewhat true, because hell, the man _is_ his best friend after all -, thinking he must have misheard, but Rhodey just shrugs. And Tony wants to say something, anything, because if anyone deserves advice and comfort here it’s Rhodey, who’s just starting to go on missions again. Rhodey, who tried to comfort Tony while facing the results of his mistakes with his own body. Rhodey, who raised his head under the weight of his own bravery, _I signed because it was the right thing to do,_ having to watch as Ross’s lies crumbled a little more in front of them at every order, the disappointment on his face wounding Tony’s heart like a knife. Rhodey, who more than anyone didn’t deserve this, and yet somehow now drinks beside him and offers advice like nothing happened, like this is just another of Tony’s regular fuckups he’s had to deal with his whole life. Rhodey, who _knows,_ Tony realizes suddenly, probably knew way before Tony did, and now gives him direction because he _knows Tony_ and knows the pain and confusion and hurt all over his head better than anyone else could ever hope to.

Tony feels tears welling up in his eyes, and it’s probably the alcohol, but he buries his face in his hands and just sobs like a child. Rhodey doesn’t say anything, just moves closer and holds him, whispering in a rushed voice, caressing his back: “It’s ok, it’s ok, you don’t have to, you know what? Maybe send him a text.”

Tony gives a choked laugh through the tears.

* * *

 

Steve holds the phone at night, when he can’t sleep. He writes a thousand different messages on his head, practices a dozen speeches, one million ways of saying _I’m sorry_ before he reminds himself he already did that and was unable to come up with anything better than those two basic words. He’s not good at embellishing things, never has been, and he doubts there’s anything he can say to Tony he couldn’t say better himself.

Still, he holds the phone close, types out messages he never sends, makes up meeting plans he will never execute, thinks Tony probably ripped his letter in two and threw the phone in the garbage before even reading it. He thinks about a million ways of saying _I’m sorry_ , but deep down he knows that’s not what he wants, _needs_ to say – what he needed to say for years, unable to get the words out. He closes his eyes in the middle of the night and hugs a flip phone against his chest, living legend, most wanted criminal in the world, searching for the right words to sum up _I drew your hands in the corners of every notebook I own_ and _I count the wrinkles around your eyes in my head_ and _I feel like I never left the ice and all I can see is you moving around me._ He imagines saying it all at once, laying it bare for Tony to see, ripping his heart out of his own chest to save him the trouble, laying it on Tony’s beautiful fingers - _here, you can use the shield if you want to, now we’re even –_ and staring into his eyes with his soul open, waiting for the end.

He doesn’t fall asleep again. He also doesn’t send anything.

* * *

 

**VI. fault lines tremble underneath our glass house**

Natasha is the one to find the mission, as always. Unlike always, however, she has a disturbed look on her face as she lays down the information T’challa send about some weird signal Wakandan satellites have been picking up in the atmosphere.

“They think it’s an attack plan. Most likely terrorists, but it’s very strange tech, even they can’t fully understand what it means.” She says. Then she pauses for a moment, taking a deep breath. “They think they’re targeting the U.N.”.

There’s a heavy silence in the room. The three of them going to the U.N. headquarters is like a mice walking straight into a cat’s mouth, but Steve knows T’challa is dealing with a potentially very unstable situation right now, so he can’t afford to dispatch any wakandan warriors.

Besides, he thinks, looking around the room for the first time, it’s not like there’s any doubt left.

“I will start crafting the plans.” He says.

“There’s one more thing” Natasha adds, and, this time, she smiles. “He told us to drop by first.”

* * *

 

Tony tasks Friday with coming up with the missions, as always. Which is why he’s surprised when her voice announces a visitor instead of the data he asked her to look for.

When he sees Nick Fury walk inside his office, for a second, Tony thinks he might have lost it. Then he glances at the guy next to him, all weird and serious and wearing a freaking _cape_ , and he’s pretty sure he’s lost it, until Fury opens his mouth: “Stark.” He says, proving he is, indeed, there, and not a figment of Tony’s sleep-deprived imagination.

“Fury.” Tony says, because he’s too shocked to even think of a witty retort at the moment.

“Doctor Strange.” The man says, as if they’re doing introductions, and reaching forward to shake Tony’s hand.

Tony opens his mouth because, no, not even his sleep-deprived head can let this one go, but Fury interrupts him.

“We need to talk.” He says, with his usual bluntness. Tony hasn’t seen the man in years and yet an old anger at his bossy voice boils inside him. He’s about to say _no, we don’t_ , make a quick joke at Cape Guy and tell Friday to close the lab door on their faces. “About Bruce Banner.”

Tony keeps the lab door open.

* * *

 

(Steve spends the night before they leave holding the phone in his hands, because now he can’t spend much time away from it, even if he doesn’t really understand why. He knows he’s eventually just going to give up even trying to sleep, he needs to go over the plans again. T’challa’s data is very nebulous, and they still have a few weeks to prepare, but Steve can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong, that they need more _time_.)

* * *

 

Tony repeats every word out of Fury’s mouth to himself in his head, to make it easier to believe. They have intel on Bruce for the first time in years, and it’s an encrypted warning about some danger, but they don’t know where it came from or what is it about. Clint was tasked with looking for the signal’s source – shit, _Clint,_ the last time Tony saw him there was a glass barrier between them – and there’s apparently a lead that someone is planning to attack the U.N. in two weeks.

Tony listens in silence, because he’s still trying to process everything, from the cape guy to hearing Bruce’s name to watching Nick Fucking Fury walk into his office barking orders as if he had just gotten back in time. He listens carefully, paying attention to every word, until Fury stops and stares at him with his one dark eye.

“Thaddeus Ross doesn’t know anything about this.” He says.

Tony smirks.

“Then let’s not bother him with it.”

* * *

 

(He calls Clint later that night, with a phone he build that same day and will destroy as soon as they finish the call. Clint’s voice is initially wary, but he doesn’t hang up. He tells Tony he doesn’t know any more than what Fury already told him, and Tony says _I know._

There’s a moment of uncomfortable silence. Then Clint asks about Rhodey, Tony tells him about Parker’s latest antics, Clint congratulates him on the engagement, and it’s awkward but not terrible. Tony asks if he and Laura need any help, if there’s anything he can do, and Clint declines, but Tony can hear a smile in his voice. They don’t talk about _you got a wife and kids_ or _watch your back with this guy,_ which is probably the best possible outcome.

At the end of the call, Tony bites the inside of his cheek – wants to ask, thinks about a secret way of asking, comes up with a hundred different options and discards them all in the same second – but nothing comes out. Then Clint hangs up, telling him to keep in touch, and Tony actually smiles a little.)

* * *

 

“You should call him.” Bucky says, and Steve almost smiles because it sounds so much like the Bucky he remembers, that blunt and kind voice, encouraging him to ask the redhead on the other side of the bar to dance, _come on, Steve, what have you got to lose_? But they’re not in a bar, they’re standing in a quinjet as it flies out of Wakanda, and Bucky has wakandan clothes and a new arm. It’s been almost two years since the last time they saw each other, and Bucky’s still able to see right through him, to put into words what would have taken Steve a lifetime to explain. Steve looks at the new gauntlet in his wrist and doesn’t answer, and in the next moment he feels a warm arm hugging him by the shoulders: “I know you won’t, but you should.”

* * *

 

Pepper meets him in the living room, her bags in her hands.

Pepper fell in love with Tony Stark. Pepper _never_ signed up to fall for Iron Man, and Tony knows, deep in his heart, that it’s completely unfair to ask her to do so. Still, she tried anyway, just like she like she did tirelessly before. So right now, when she stares at him uncomfortably, seemingly not knowing what to say, Tony reaches forward and hugs her tight, because it’s the least he can do. He wants to say _thank you for trying_.

Pepper rests her head on his shoulder and smiles and Tony doesn’t actually say it, not really, but he thinks she understands.

* * *

 

“Tony?”

“Yeah?”

Pepper gives him a tiny, sad smile.

“You should call him.”

* * *

 

They don’t call each other.

They walk into battle with the usual focus – eyes on the field, ready for the threat to show up. Tony’s suit floats above, Steve clenches his fists among the locals. There isn’t anything unusual, it seems, but Steve feels a sense of dread around him, and Tony’s stomach bubbles with anxiety.

They patrol. They get in position. Steve stops right next to an information panel, pretending to read the instructions, and Tony lowers himself a little more. They’re both being careless, approaching a danger they’re not even sure is there yet. Neither of them is supposed to be seen right now. Their hearts rush, the blood on their veins runs faster, and Tony wonders if Steve heard about the sign as Steve wonders if Tony was sent to assure inside security. They don’t know why – they’ve both done this countless time before, alone more than together. Still, they remember – they remember New York, Sokovia, Berlin, Siberia. They remember stolen glances at the living room, hidden smiles at Tony’s lab, accidental touches during debriefs. They think of _Did you know_ and a hole in the chest. They think of endless nights, countless work, unsent messages and forgotten dreams. The sense of a looming threat doesn’t feel as scary as it feels lonely.

Steve Rogers takes a few steps towards the windows just as Iron Man gets low enough to take a look inside.

Captain America’s eyes meet Tony Stark's through the glass, for the first time in three years.

They both think _, I should have called_.

The U.N. blows up.

* * *

 

**VII. we are the dust of dust**

Steve coughs, squinting his eyes against the smoke. He moves forward to help a man stuck under a wall, and on his ears he can hear Sam’s frantic screaming, _What's happening_ _?! Up here I only see smoke! Widow? Cap? Anybody copy? Wait, there’s a-Fuck, what is THAT?!_

Steve looks up, opening his mouth to mumble _I copy,_ but he doesn’t know if Sam can hear it anymore, because there’s a loud explosion noise over the line and, right above them, Steve sees a spaceship the size of a mountain descending from the sky.

* * *

 

Tony flies among the smoke, picking up as many civilians as he can, directing them to Fury’s escape route. Strange shows up next to him suddenly, and he doesn’t think he’s ever going to get used to that, but right now he’s glad to see him, glad to see something familiar. Looking forward, he can only see smoke and a huge ship and _Steve Rogers' eyes_ , right in front of him, staring into his soul right before the world blew up, it _was_ him, Tony wasn’t losing it yet, it _had_ to be-

The spaceship doors open.

* * *

 

(Later, Steve will be able to remember everything clearly – the explosions; the screams; those strange aliens exiting the ship; Natasha’s voice yelling through the coms _we’re outnumbered, we need to regroup;_ a guy with a cape fighting next to him; an explosive arrow taking out a group of aliens on his way; a grey woman aiming his head with a spear; Bucky pushing him towards the exit; Nick goddamn Fury showing up through the smoke and telling them to follow him; and a big, green thing falling from the sky, followed by a loud sound of thunder.

On the spot, though, it was hard to notice anything happening around him, because his head pounded as he moved through the battlefield, forcing himself to stay focused and not look to the sky for any signs of a flying armor.)

* * *

 

“They call themselves the Dark Order.” Bruce says, struggling to button up the shirt he just got, his fingers shaking slightly.

“But they’re just the first line.” Thor adds, rushing forward to help him. There’s a blood stain right under his eyepatch.

Tony watches them in silent, trying to focus on the meaning of their words and not on the unbearable mix of familiarity and weirdness that is having them on his living room right now, after all this time. There’s a part of him that feels almost happy, the part that still hasn’t stopped to think about the U.N. in ruins and a team of murderous aliens establishing themselves in the middle of New York.

The rest of his brain is, as usual, working at full speed. They have a ship of allies coming in, Thor says – they’re a “strange bunch”, by his words, but, honestly, at this point, Tony will take any help they can get. He checks on Parker to see that, yeah, the kid definitely tried to stop an alien invasion all by himself, but he’s well enough to come meet them. Clint says there are two shrinking freaks going around now, and they’re both ready to meet them too. Strange is talking frantically about some mystical crap to Wong and Rhodey, who seem, respectively, reflective and confused – Tony’ll catch up with that later, because right now, the focus is on the biggest threat who, from Thor and Bruce’s words, isn’t here yet, but will show up at any minute. And Tony needs to sit down and think of a plan, urgently, but there’s a part of him that’s putting it off, waiting, and Tony hates himself for knowing exactly what for.

“We’re here.” Fury’s voice comes from the door. Tony takes a long breath, watches as Natasha and Sam and Barnes walk past him, slowly and carefully, before turning around.

* * *

 

Steve doesn’t breathe.

Through the glass it had been a quick glance, just a second before the world started to end around them. Now, he takes the time to look at Tony’s face, his familiar stubble, his new haircut, the same eyes Steve didn’t stop thinking about once for the past two years. His heart aches, he feels his chest tightening, and he needs to breathe, he knows, but he just can’t.

“Cap.” Tony says, his eyes widened, and Steve wants to cry at his voice, how familiar and new it feels, how he thought he wouldn’t ever hear it again.

 “Tony.” He manages, letting out a small breath, and the word feels like a miracle on his mouth, and there’s an insane part of him that wants to just keep repeating it, over and over again. That same part is probably what drives him to take a step forward, without thinking, but Tony flinches, and Steve wonders if it’s possible to hear your own heart breaking.

He doesn’t move. Tony opens his mouth, as if he’s thinking of something to say, then closes it again, and Steve takes a few steps away from him, next to Nick Fury.

“We need a plan.” He says, and he can hear Tony letting out his breath behind him.

* * *

 

Tony goes through every detail on his head a dozen times. Time is short. They’ve got until the Dark Order realizes one of the things they’re looking for is in the neck of a guy with a cape standing right next to him, and another one is somewhere in Europe receiving a warning call from Rhodey. The largest problem is still on the way, but, from the look on Thor’s face when he checks a message from his new allies, it’s not very far. According to Barnes (Tony flinches when he opens his mouth, but his voice is softer than he remembered, and Tony closes his eyes and forces himself to think of young Sergeant James Buchanan instead. To his own surprise, it works), the last piece of the puzzle is in Wakanda. Whatever picture those elements will come together to form is something Tony doesn’t ever want to find out.

“We got one advantage: He’s coming to us.” He says. “We have what Thanos wants, so that's what we'll use.”

“Yeah, but we’re scattered right now.” Bruce says, and the way he glances quickly to Tony and Steve lets Tony know there aren’t enough shades of green to express how he feels about _that_ development, regardless of what he knows about it in the first place. Tony almost grins. “He’ll pick us out one by one.”

“We can regroup.” Natasha says, seeming calm. Tony almost buys it. “But we’ll need a battlefield.”

Steve Rogers’s voice comes from across the room, but for Tony it seems to come from another time, another era, another life: “I know a good one.”

* * *

 

Flying by quinjet to Wakanda should take around six hours, but because they need to take a detour to meet Wanda and Vision in Europe, Steve’s got ten hours to sit on his hands and pretend he isn’t stuck on a flight while the world around him crumbles apart. He kills about five minutes calling T’challa and confirming what he already knows – _Wakanda will not_ _back down from the fight,_ T’challa says, and if Steve ever had to describe what a king’s voice sounds like, that would be it.

It doesn’t make the remaining time easy, though. He hugs Thor and Bruce; exchanges introductions with Doctor Strange; stares at Nick Fury for a couple of seconds before hugging him too, surprising even himself. Clint smiles and nods at him before stepping forward to hug Natasha and catch up with her for the rest of the flight. The Spider kid talks a lot, which makes Steve smile, but he quickly bounces from their conversation to cheerfully greet Sam and Bucky, as if the last time they had seen each other was at a party or something. Scott Lang is way too excited to see him again, but thankfully his new partner, Hope, seems more aware of what's going on and steers Scott away before he embarrasses Steve too much. Colonel Rhodes looks at him solemnly for a few moments, before offering a small smile and shaking his hand.

And then there’s Tony.

Mostly, he ignores Steve completely, focusing on gathering as much information as he can about the imminent threat. Steve knows it’s the smartest thing to do, so he follows his lead, even if he can’t help but eye Tony constantly, watching as he paces and gestures as if to remind himself he’s real. He’s there, he exists on the same space as Steve does, breathes the same air, doesn’t wear a wedding ring and is close enough to touch, just for a second, they could bump into each other like they did so many times before, and Steve could feel the warmth of Tony’s body and presence for just _one moment_ after all these years-

He excuses himself. Sam and Bucky both look at him over the Spider kid's head, and Steve can _hear_ their voices on his mind, but he shakes his head and walks to an empty cabin.

* * *

 

Tony watches him.

He sees him calling T’challa, warning him about the battle about to come, and smiling at the answer he hears. Steve Rogers, Tony thinks, Captain America. Then he watches him take step by step towards the cabin, his walk different from the one he held at the battle. His back doesn’t carry a shield anymore. Steve Rogers, Tony thinks, war criminal.

Tony can feel his eyes on him before he closes the door.

Steve Rogers, Tony thinks. Steve, Steve, Steve.

* * *

 

The door opens.

* * *

 

**VIII. I’m only honest when it rains**

Time stops.

* * *

 

They look at each other.

There’s a million things they want to say. Some are obvious, and have been said before – _I’m sorry, I know I hurt you_. Others are darker, and have never been admitted aloud – _I wanted to kill him, I thought you were going to kill me._ Others float between them, scattered around the air they breathe, both of them, at the same time. These words come across time and space to meet them there, Captain America and Iron Man, Steve Rogers and Tony Stark, alone in a room in the middle of the sky, on their way to meet the end. It’s as if the universe hears them, and then it scratches, bends itself around them, creates a single moment in the entirety of existence where they’re _here_ , right now, their words and dreams finding each other through their lungs, their hearts figuring out how to beat in synch.

They touch.

* * *

 

“I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.”

* * *

 

Tony takes off his gauntlets and caresses Steve’s face, his beard prickly under his touch, the warmth of his skin burning. He touches his jaw, his neck, his shoulders. Steve shivers under his fingertips and Tony has to keep touching him to make sure he’s real. He takes in everything, every detail his hands and eyes are capable of absorbing at once. Steve lets him. His suit is dirty and dusted, his hair is longer, and his eyes are still the brightest things Tony has ever seen.

Steve touches Tony’s temples, his own hands shaking as he cups his face, his fingers drawing circles on Tony’s skin. He touches Tony’s nose, his cheekbones, the corner of his eyes. He discovers new wrinkles, counts them, loses count just to start over again. Tony lets him. His armor is new, his eye bags are darker, and Steve loves him so much it hurts.

* * *

 

They don’t know how much time passes. They just stand there, touching each other, and Steve’s arms eventually hold Tony’s waist and pull their bodies together. Tony takes a sharp breath, then buries his face on Steve’s shoulder, feels the warmth and the smell of his skin. Steve feels the weight of Tony’s body as he crumbles onto him, and he holds him tighter, so tight it probably hurts, but Tony just squeezes him back, their bodies so close they could melt into each other, merge, become one. Steve closes his eyes, wants to imagine that, wants to believe it. They wouldn’t let go, ever, the touch of Tony’s fingers never leaving his skin, and the Mad Titan would have to kill them to break them apart, because no one ever could, no, not again.

* * *

 

“I wanted to call you.” Tony murmurs, his voice muffled against Steve’s shoulder.

Steve smiles. “I thought you threw away the phone.”

* * *

 

Tony strips off the armor, letting Steve’s fingers caress his arms, the back of his neck, the skin under the straps of his wife beater. He shudders, and Steve stops for a moment, waiting until Tony’s hands grab his and drag them across his chest, to where the arc reactor once was, to where now his heart beats faster than ever, rushing at Steve’s touch as if it could burst out of his body to meet his hands. Steve’s big, perfect hands, tracing Tony’s chest as if they had all the time in the world to stay there forever.

Steve shivers at the sight of Tony’s skin, even though it’s just his regular clothes under the suit. His olive skin is bright and beautiful and exhales warmth, that Steve feels as he touches Tony, running his hands over Tony’s forearms, his shoulders, his back. He can feel Tony’s hands climbing up to the back of his neck, his fingers cupping Steve’s face, his thumb caressing his jaw. Tony’s brown eyes shine and he smiles and Steve died once, crashing a plane on a block of ice he never really got out of, and even the moments before he fell into the water didn’t feel as scary as this.

* * *

 

“Do you think we’ll make it through this?” Tony asks, his fingers careful against Steve’s face, his voice almost curious, as if he’s just asking Steve’s opinion on what movie they should watch tonight, as if he’s not burning through what’s left of Steve’s heart with every movement of his fingertips.

“We have to.” Steve answers, his voice with that brash confidence that makes Tony smile harder. He squeezes Tony’s waist more, and Tony is pretty sure his torso must be bruising, but right now he doesn’t care, right now he would let Steve break his ribs if he wanted to, just to not let him go.

“No plan, Cap?” Tony says, and his smile and touch and eyes are too much for Steve. He leans his head forward, not pushing Tony’s hands away, resting their foreheads together, forgetting that the universe contains anything other than a pair of brown eyes.

“We do it together.” Steve mutters, his heart taking a leap on his chest when Tony fingers brush the corners of his mouth.

Tony closes his eyes for a moment, letting their foreheads touch. He can feel Steve’s breath on his face, the air he inhales and exhales brushing his skin, in and out of Steve’s lips. He lets their foreheads touch, tastes that air on his own mouth and tongue, lets his thumb touch Steve’s lips, tracing them, their softness a sharp contrast against the beard that prickles his fingers. “Together.” Tony whispers, and he can feel Steve shivering against him.

* * *

 

Steve’s eyes search his face, wide, open, honest.

“Can I…?”

Tony’s heart was once dependent on a car battery, and even _then_ it didn’t feel so weak.

“Yes.”

* * *

 

Tony kisses him.

Tony kisses him, smashes their mouths together, and Steve had thought of doing that slowly, but he immediately forgets everything he ever thought, opening his mouth as wide as he can to feel Tony’s tongue against his, their bodies clinging to each other so tightly they lose their balance, and Steve stumbles a few steps backwards, feeling Tony’s grin against his mouth.

Tony kisses him, and Steve had never imagined it like that, so clumsy, so desperate, Tony’s fingers burying on his shoulders in a way that could leave marks, Tony’s heart beating intensely against his own, Tony biting his lips and kissing his mouth, his jaw, his neck with such a hunger he never thought anyone could ever want him with.

Tony kisses him, and the ice melts, little by little, helpless against warm fingertips all over Steve’s skin. It breaks and falls apart, all around them, and Tony kisses him and Steve smiles, because he can feel his own body warming up, waking up, burning against the iceberg until there’s nothing around them but water.

Tony kisses him, and, against his lips, Steve moves.

* * *

 

Steve whispers.

Steve whispers: “Tony, Tony, Tony.”, his voice rushed, low and raspy in a way that sends shivers down Tony’s spine, as he rips off Tony’s shirt as if it were made of paper. Tony closes his eyes, listens to Steve’s voice repeating his name like a song, like he had been waiting so long to say it, and Tony kisses every letter off his mouth, feeling it through his lips.

Steve whispers: “Tony, Tony, I never thought-”, and Tony doesn’t let him finish, kissing his mouth, cheeks, jawline. He sees tears sprinkle in the corner of Steve’s eyes and kisses them one by one, his own skin wet too, feeling Steve’s sweat and tears touch his face, wanting to stop him from finishing that sentence, wanting to say _Me neither,_ wanting to tell him it doesn’t matter, nothing will ever matter as much as this, ever again.

Steve whispers: “Tony, I dreamed of you.”, and Tony feels himself smiling so hard his cheeks hurt, feeling Steve’s hair through his fingers, kissing him even harder, wanting to swallow those words from Steve’s mouth, wanting to feel them burning his throat and finding their way to his chest, carving themselves on his skin from inside out.

Steve whispers: “I love you.”, and Tony believes him.

* * *

 

 

It’s different from what they imagined. Steve’s beard scratches Tony’s face slightly, there’s a new scar on Tony’s shoulder, and they’re both dirty and messy from the explosions of before, the cabin floor definitely not where either of them ever dreamed of that happening. Still, their bodies ache for each other, their skins molten at their touches, Steve’s lips finding Tony’s, their tears mixing and their smiles smashed against each other. It’s different from what they ever imagined, it’s different from anything they have ever known. They write words on each other’s bodies, lengthy apologies and regrets they don’t have time to say aloud. They cry, they laugh, and they forgive each other. They write themselves a different story, each kiss a new comma on the endless tale of what could have been.

They love. Openly, clearly, deeply – together. Just this once.

* * *

 

The ship doors open.

* * *

 

**VIII. infinity times infinity times infinity**

It’s a sunny day in Wakanda, as if the universe didn’t get the memo that it’s about to end. The sun hits Thanos’ skin and he grins maliciously. The golden gauntlet on his arm shines as he places the green stone on the last open spot.

Captain America and Iron Man stand next to each other, in the front line.

Tony Stark lowers his faceplate one last time, turning around to see Steve Rogers looking right back at him.

Steve whispers: “Together.”

Tony smiles: “Together.”

* * *

 

Thanos snaps his fingers.

**Author's Note:**

> ...so. yeah. 
> 
> I struggled with this story for a while. I'm new to the MCU, having just watched all the movies a few months ago (I know, talk about being late to the party) but it's easy to see CW is kind of a delicate subject among Stony fans, and as a shipper who loved the movie and came out of it shipping them more than ever, I sometimes struggle to find people who share my opinion. This story was originally going to be a lot shorter, but as I channeled my feelings about this ship and what they have come to mean to me lately, with IW right around the corner, it turned into this 22-pages-long monstrosity. I love these two, I love them so much. I love their messiness, their UST, and the fact that their trust issues and lack of communication skills are going to cause the literal apocalypse (alternative ending: "You should have called each other, Thanos says, placing both of their heads on his top shelf, turning around to murder the rest of my favorite characters"). So... Yeah. I wanted to write something to convey that in some way.
> 
> I want to thank anybody who took the time to read it, really. I tried to keep it as close to canon as possible (the only detail I'm still not sure about is Wakanda withdrawing from the Accords, but I assume something must have happened there since T'challa would be breaking them by helping Steve and Bucky), and I wanted to be very careful not to bash anyone, not even the secondary characters. 
> 
> Except Thaddeus Ross. Fuck that guy.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it! I'd love to hear you thoughts about it, positive or not. If you want to talk or cry over possible IW theories, you can find me at my tumblr: [x](http://elcorhamletlive.tumblr.com/)


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